


Carry You

by breakdancingsigma (hetawholockvengerstuck)



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)
Genre: Blood, Gen, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hetawholockvengerstuck/pseuds/breakdancingsigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Drax carried his teammates, and one time they returned the favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry You

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the following kink meme prompt: http://guardian-kink.livejournal.com/1806.html?thread=296974#t296974

**1.**

Every one of the Guardians was blindsided by exhaustion after Ronan was defeated, but Rocket was hit the hardest. When all was said and done, the smallest Guardian curled up into a ball in the midst of the debris, clutching his handful of twigs to his chest, and fell asleep. 

There were two problems with that, the first being that Nova Prime had requested the Guardians' immediate presence, and the second being that the cleanup crew really needed to evacuate everyone from the crash site. Also, no one was sure what effect the Infinity Stone would have on the surrounding area. Was there residue? Would long-term exposure prove harmful? The Xandarian scientists were itching to check it out, and that posed  _another_ problem.

Because Rocket didn't do too well around scientists.

Neither Peter or Gamora were willing to risk disturbing the ball of rage that was Rocket, so Drax took it upon himself to scoop the raccoon up and carefully,  oh so carefully, transport him to the Nova Corps headquarters. Drax cradled Rocket to his chest like he would a baby, doing his best not to dwell on the memory of the last time he had held someone likes this.

**2.**

Groot loved music. Drax had caught the little sapling dancing more often than Groot knew, but kept it to himself--it was a game, of sorts, and Groot seemed to enjoy it. 

Drax soon developed a habit of carrying Groot with him whenever he was going to turn on the tape deck. Whether he was sharpening his knives, lost in thought, or running through a workout, he always took the pot that contained his littlest friend (it still seemed so strange; Groot used to be his  _largest_ friend, after all).

If there was one thing Groot loved more than music, it was being carried.

**3.**

Running from enemies was all well and good, but Drax really preferred to do that only if said enemy had no way of shooting at them. As it was, his teammates had to keep turning around to fire return volleys, and it was only serving to slow them down. 

"We'll never make it to the hangar before the guards!" Rocket insisted. "We need some sort of distraction!"

"We don't have  _time_ for a distraction!" Gamora shot back.

An idea occurred to Drax. "Friend Quill, turn around and be prepared to shoot."

Peter looked uncertain, but he was already half-way to facing the enemy. Drax barreled into him and threw the Terran over his shoulder ("like a sack of potatoes," Peter would say).

There was an  _oomph_ from Peter, and a slight break in the gunfire. When it resumed, Peter yelled, "You could have warned me about the imminent threat of a shoulder to the gut!"

"Just keep shooting!" Rocket called over his shoulder, tossing Drax one of his guns to give to Peter. "And quit swingin' yer legs around, you'll hit Drax in the face!"

They made their way out of the hallway and into the hangar with seconds to spare, and Peter was dumped unceremoniously into the cockpit. "What, no more special treatment?"

"Just drive!" Gamora shouted.

**4.**

Their latest mission called for the team to break into a hospital to retrieve the medical records of a murder suspect. Rocket and Peter had hacked into the security cameras and the former was watching with Groot as the plan unfolded.

The plan, unfortunately, called for Drax to pretend he was married to Gamora.

Neither of them was very happy about it, but in order for this to work, Gamora had to fake a broken leg, and once she was admitted to the hospital, they needed someone who was "legally" able to get in to see her--that is, family. Peter was posing as a doctor, so as to avoid the real ones giving her a proper diagnosis, and then Gamora was going to sneak out of her room and retrieve the files they needed. Drax had to be there to guard the room while she was working.

Peter entered the waiting room with a white coat, a pair of glasses, and a clipboard. Gamora rolled her eyes. "Mr. and Mrs. Alf?" Peter had to do his best not to giggle at his Terran television reference.

Drax went to stand up, but Gamora grabbed his arm. "Carry me."

"Excuse me?"

"I've got a broken leg. You're my husband. Carry me," she whispered.

That was the last thing Drax wanted to do.  It was far too intimate, and he was still not fully comfortable with the former daughter of Thanos. Still, this mission was worth a lot of units, and Rocket would kill them if they screwed it up. So Drax carefully lifted Gamora, bridal-style, in his arms, and followed Peter down the hall.

Peter never let him hear the end of it.

**+1**

He was bleeding. Years of fighting, facing dangerous villains on the field of battle, and this was the first time Drax could remember  _bleeding_.

And it wasn't just a scratch, either; no, this was full-on, life-threatening bleeding, and he could tell by the looks on his teammates faces that the wound was an ugly one. He just sighed and closed his eyes.

"Leave me. You have a mission to fulfill."

"Not a chance, buddy," Peter said. "Do you think you can walk?"

"Are you kiddin'?" Rocket scoffed. "You two are gonna have to carry 'im. I'll scout ahead." Before anyone could protest, Rocket was gone.

Peter and Gamora exchanged looks. The former moved around to grip Drax under the arms; the latter took hold of his legs. With great effort, they began to half-drag, half-carry him down the hall.

"This is ridiculous," Drax insisted, but his words held little conviction; he was too busy concentrating on keeping his eyes open. "You will go much faster without me."

"Stop trying to be a martyr," Gamora snapped. Her hands were getting sweaty, and she was having a hard time holding on to Drax; she was looking anywhere but at the wound in his abdomen, doing her best to focus and not dwell on the fact that one of her teammates was dying.

"I told you we're not leaving you," Peter said, "so just sit back and accept the fact that you're making it through this."

They inched their way down the hall in silence, the only sound being the heavy breathing and occasional grunts of effort from Peter and Gamora. Drax did his best not to vocalize the pain he was in, but an occasional groan slipped out, causing his teammates to try speeding up, to no avail.

Peter's arms were beginning to shake from overuse, and even Gamora was having trouble keeping Drax aloft. Eventually, they stopped to rest.

"Just...need a moment..." Peter huffed, wiping his palms on his jacket to remove the sweat that had accumulated. Drax thought he heard Gamora say something, but he was losing the battle to remain conscious.

Suddenly, he felt something rough coiling around him, and the floor of the hallway seemed to disappear. He opened his eyes a tiny crack and saw Groot--a much larger Groot, albeit still smaller than when they had first met--looking down at him with concerned but kind eyes. Something furry--Rocket, he assumed--was standing on Groot's shoulder.

"Alright, let's get back to the ship. I know you two can make it, so quit actin' like you've run two marathons."

* * *

 Drax remained semi-conscious throughout the dash back to the _Milano_. He was vaguely aware of Peter treating his wound in the medbay, with Groot keeping him steady.

The wound was serious, but Drax was nothing if not resilient, and soon he was fully aware of himself again. Rocket was dozing in a chair across the room, but when Drax tried to sit up and agitated his wound, the resulting grunt of pain woke the raccoon and sent him scurrying to inform the others. Presumably he stayed behind to pilot the ship, because when Gamora, Peter, and Groot entered the medbay a few minutes later, Rocket was nowhere to be seen.

"How you doing, bud?" Peter asked.

"It will heal," Drax said. "Forgive me. It is because of my weakness that we were unable to fulfill our mission."

"It's no big deal," Gamora said.

"Yeah, it wasn't  _that_ big of a job," Peter assured him.

This confused Drax. Their client had offered an astronomical sum of money for the item they had failed to retrieve, and in Drax's experience, there was nothing the other Guardians liked more than extra units in their wallets.

"Friend Rocket is angry with me, is he not?"

"When is that furball  _not_ angry?" Gamora asked.

"He'll get over it," Peter said. "I think he was more angry that you almost died. He's not good with emotional stuff, you know."

Drax nodded; that he could agree with. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been a burden to the team.

As if they had read his mind, his friends pulled up chairs and sat around his bed. 

"Look, don't beat yourself up about it, okay? It was just a job, there are plenty of other ones out there," Peter said.

"I am not harming myself, friend Quill. I am resting."

Peter laughed. "There we go, there's the old Drax! Good to have you back."

"I have not gone anywhere, nor am I elderly."

Gamora cracked a smile. "Ignore him, he's an idiot."

"Hey!"

"He has a point, though," she continued. "You're allowed to need our help sometimes, Drax. Even if you get hurt a few times, you're a valuable member of the team."

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"I have no idea what that means," Peter said, "but I would probably agree with it. Look, dude, you do a lot of the heavy lifting around here--literally and metaphorically. Just rest for a while, get better, and you can go back to carrying  _our_ asses to safety, got it?"

Drax considered Peter's words, then nodded. "That seems like an acceptable course of action."

Groot made a low humming sound and left the room, followed by Gamora and Peter. A few minutes later, he returned alone, with Drax's blades in one hand and Peter's Walkman in the other. He hummed again, and although Drax didn't know exactly what was being said, he got the gist of it.

Groot handed the knives to Drax, popped the cassette tape into the medbay's tape deck, then stretched out a tendril to press a button on the wall. The sound system clicked on, playing one of Peter's tapes. Groot took a seat in the corner, and Drax began sharpening his knives--not with the same purpose as he usually would, because he wanted to avoid stressing his injury. He highly doubted that the knives were actually getting any sharper, but it was routine, and seeing Groot dance out of the corner of his eye, oblivious to his observation, brought a strange sense of peace to the infamous Destroyer.

He turned his head to look straight at Groot, now frozen in a ridiculous pose. When he returned his attention to his knives, he had to try very hard to keep his expression neutral.

This game would never get old. It had changed a bit, of course, since Groot was no longer small enough for Drax to carry around with him. In that respect, the roles had reversed.


End file.
